Heart of the Revolution
by ExtraordinarySoul
Summary: Sarah, James and Henri meet a mysterious girl named MarieClaire. After they rescue her and she comes to live with them, their lives are changed forever when she reveals a dark secret.
1. Part 1: Fog Bound

Hello dear Liberty's Kids lovers! This is my first fic, and I think you should know: I don't own Liberty's Kids, but I own Marie-Claire, _The Blowhole_ and Captain Gerald. I haven't seen the show in ages since stupid PBS got rid of it, and I can't find the DVD set, so I'm making up the events that go on (sorry to all History buffs like me). There might be S/J, or maybe James with someone else. I have no clue just yet. Now, I begin the very first part.

Sarah was staring out at the ocean, hoping to get a beautiful glimpse of Pennsylvania. But the fog was so thick; she thought it to be a miracle if they even made it to land. She and James were just returning from another newspaper report.

The young girl sighed. This was boring. The only interesting thing was the ship's name: _The Blowhole_. Captain Gerald said that his father had named it that as a joke.

These boats took forever to get somewhere. Where was James, anyway? Still writing? Sarah was about to leave the side of the ship to ask when she spotted something floating in the water. It looked like a body clinging to a barrel.

"Captain Gerald!" Sarah shouted, "Look! There's someone in the water!"

The Captain took out his spyglass and glanced out to sea.

"Man overboard!" He called, "Quick! A few hands over here!"

As quickly as they could, the crewmembers threw a ladder over the side of the ship and climbed down to rescue the unfortunate drifter. James came over to Sarah.

"What's going on?" He asked, craning his neck to see.

"There's someone floating around down there holding onto a barrel," Sarah explained, "They're bringing them up now."

A sailor placed the person down on the deck of the ship. It was a girl.

"Can you get a pulse?" An anxious Captain Gerald asked the nearby sailor.

The man urgently pressed near her stomach, and soon enough she coughed and awoke.

"Miss Phillips, Mr. Hiller!" Captain Gerald said, waving them over, "Please take care of this young lady, as I must return to my duties. Thank you."

James and Sarah took a first look at her. She had jet black hair, which was all fuzzy and stringy. Her face was freckly and had faire skin. Her entire body was dirty, and she wore a dress that was red and worn out. Then she opened her eyes to reveal beautiful, almost mesmerizing, green.

"Where am I?" The girl said slowly, her voice a bit hoarse, "What happened? Who are you?"

"You're on _The Blowhole_," James explained calmly, "You were just floating around in the sea, and my name is James Hiller."

"I'm Sarah Phillips." Sarah replied to her.

The girl sat up slowly, "I'm…Marie-Claire…"

Sarah and James gently helped her up.

"I think she's delirious," Sarah whispered, "She needs water. And medicine. Being down there must've got her at least a head cold."

"I'm not delirious…" Marie-Claire protested.

"Land ho!" The man in the crow's nest announced.

At last, beautiful Pennsylvania was in view. Sarah and James could barely see Henri and Moses. Henri was the one waving and pointing frantically.

"What do we do with her? Put her back in the sea?" James asked Sarah.

"James!" Sarah scolded, "Of course not. Let's take her to the _Gazette_. She'll have to stay with us until we find out where she's from and who she is."

"I already told you," the girl groaned, "I'm…oh…my head."

Once the ship docked, James and Sarah grabbed their things and got off the boat. The girl was struggling, but with their help she was able to walk.

"Hello Moses, Henri," Sarah said coolly, "Err…look what I found in the water."

Did you like? Did you hate? Please review, my good readers!

Loverly yours, Autumn


	2. Part 2: The British French American

Sorry that one had barely any information about the girl in it. But she'll progress in the next couple chapters. Being the idiot I am, I'm not sure if Benjamin Franklin was an actual doctor (you know, the kind who say if you've got a cold). I am also confuzzled on whether they had gas lamps back then or not. Please enjoy and review. I don't own Liberty's Kids sheds tear to cancellation I'll be ok.

"Who is she?" Henri, the French boy, asked eagerly. His accent was as thick as molasses.

"Frankly, we don't know yet." James replied.

"She looks really sick," Moses observed, "I think we should get her to the _Gazette_ right now."

"Who?" The girl wondered aloud, still dizzy.

With care, Sarah and James brought the girl to the _Gazette_ headquarters, where she was settled in James' room (James complained about having to share Henri's room). Then, once she was in bed, the girl passed out.

Later, Dr. Franklin came out of James' room.

"She has an infection on her arm," He explained to the three children (Moses was out buying things in town), "But she refuses to let me fix it. Would one of you go in and do so?"

Sarah, James and Henri all looked at each other.

"It's James' room." Henri said.

"Henri!" James scowled.

"Just go. You've been voted against, 2 to 1." Sarah said firmly.

James reluctantly took the bandages and medicine and went into the room. There was a lamp burning by the bedside where the girl was sitting upright.

"You again," She muttered, "John…I think."

"Actually, it's James," He said, closing the door behind him, "I forget your name, too."

The girl visibly gulped when she saw the door shut.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice a bit panicky.

"I'm not going to hurt you," James said slowly, "I'm here to help you."

She still looked at James like he was pointing a gun at her.

"You've got a cut on your arm," James said, carefully approaching her, "And I'm going to put some medicine and bandages on it. See?"

She just stared at him, seemingly lost in her own thoughts to reply.

James sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her arm. She quickly drew back.

"First I want to know where I am." She said assertively.

"You're in Benjamin Franklin's print shop," James explained calmly, "We print _The Pennsylvania Gazette _here. Dr. Franklin was the man you saw earlier."

The girl's eyes grew wide, "You mean I'm in America? Still?"

James nodded, "Err, yes. What do you mean, 'still'?"

She looked away, "I've just been through an ordeal, that's all."

It was obvious that she was too shy or upset to tell James anything about that.

"Well, could you please tell me your name?" James asked boldly.

She looked back at him, eyes glassy, "I am Marie-Claire."

James' mouth dropped open.

"You're French?" He asked, "But you don't have an accent."

Marie-Claire shook her head, "That's because I was only French for a while."

James frowned, "What does that mean?"

"I'd rather not say…" Marie-Claire replied, sniffing. She was trying to hide tears.

James remembered the reason he was there, "So, are you going to let me repair your arm? Or do you want me to just leave? I will if you want me to. I understand; you've just met me and maybe you're unsure about it-"

Marie-Claire extended her arm and silenced him. James silently began to apply the medicine.

She winced and flinched a bit, but didn't move.

"Sorry." James said.

"It's ok," Marie-Claire said, "I've had worse."

He continued to put on the medicine. It still stung like it did the first time, but Marie-Claire never moved at all. She was noticing James' gentle touch, and wondering what he was like as a person. So far he seemed okay.

"Are you Benjamin Franklin's son?" Marie-Claire asked after a while.

James shook his head, "No, I was actually a street boy before he took me in. I helped with the press at first, but now I'm a journalist. The same with Sarah, the girl with red hair who found you in the ocean. She's British, you know."

"I lived in England for quite some time when I was younger." Marie-Claire said.

"So then you're British?" James was growing tired of asking.

"I don't know," Marie sighed, "We, being my little brother and I, lived in London with mother and father until I was ten. Then we came to America, and-"

James finished wrapping the bandage around her arm, "Yes?"

Marie scoffed, "I've told you too much already. Please swear you won't tell anyone of much importance in politics or such, Mr. Hiller."

James nodded, "Umm…ok then. Are you hungry? We have some soup downstairs if you want any. But I didn't make it. Henri says I'm a terrible cook…"

Marie-Claire laughed. Her laugh was light and happy, like a cool summer day. James' heart skipped a beat when she did, not knowing particularly why.

"Is Henry that little boy with the French background? He must have been quite the little food thief out on the street, I'd say?" Marie said.

James frowned, "How did you know he was a street boy?"

Marie swallowed visibly, "You mentioned it."

James cocked an eyebrow, "I did?"

She nodded quickly, "Yes, you did. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to get some rest. Our little talk has tired me out."

James stood in the doorway, staring for a moment as the strange girl nestled herself in the bed. He was certain he didn't mention Henri being on the street. And he was more than positive that Marie-Claire was hiding something very out of the ordinary.

Thanks to P.I.D. for the wonderful review! I was very happy to read it, and I do hope I haven't disappointed you. As to anyone else reading, don't be a stranger and review!

Loverly yours,

Autumn


	3. Part 3: Wondering

If anyone was wondering, or guessing, this fic may possibly go James/Marie-Claire. I've thought about it, and I like the idea. Thanks to P.I.D. (my first fan!) and StardustPixie, because you both make me feel good about this story. I am also adding something new: both James and Sarah have journals, and maybe Marie-Claire will have one, too. Now, without further ado, here:

"Well, who is she? Where did she come from? Does she have any brothers or sisters?" Henri was attacking James with so many questions and he had not yet got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Slow down, Henri!" James put his hand up, "One question at a time!"

"James, we're both eager to learn what you've found out about our mysterious guest." Sarah said, crossing her arms.

"Well, for one thing, her name's Marie-Claire. She used to live in London, up until she was 10. Then she came to America. She had a younger brother. That's all I know." James said quickly.

"James, you are not telling us everything!" Henri protested.

"I am being honest," James replied, "She didn't tell me much. I think she's just a little confused about being in the water and everything."

Sarah frowned a bit, but nodded like she understood.

Henri looked disappointed.

"Oh, Henri, she did say you were adorable." James said with a smirk before going upstairs again.

Henri turned pink, "You were right, Sarah. She is strange."

Sarah turned pink as well, "Shh! Henri!"

James was careful as he went into his room not to wake the sleeping girl. He grabbed his journal, a quill and some ink, and closed the door.

He settled himself down, putting a piece of wood on his lap below the page, and began to write:

We came back today. While I was gazing out at sea, I heard the crew run to the other side of the ship. I went over to Sarah to see what had happened.

James continued to write the entire account of Marie-Claire's rescue.

I feel really bad about asking her some of the questions I did. I shouldn't pry like I did. I fear that I frightened her, or worse, made her remember certain events in her life she wants to forget. Although I don't know what they are, I have a feeling that they're painful. I can relate.

James sighed, remembering the house fire and living on the street. He thought about how lucky he was to be living in the print shop, and to have good friends like Dr. Franklin, Moses, Sarah and Henri.

I just want to know more about Marie-Claire. So that I can help her, and stop her from looking so weak. I don't know why I care so much, but I do.

James closed his journal. Why did he care so much? What was it about this girl that made her so mesmerizing? And why, James wondered most of all, did she seem to be reading his thoughts when she spoke to him?

These questions remained unanswered, but James told himself he would find them. That is a reporter's job, after all.


	4. Part 4: The LetterInvitation

Don't own LK. Wish I did, then I could actually make these into a book. Stupid cancellations…stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was the next day, and Marie-Claire had awakened. Sarah had gotten some warm water so Marie could take a bath. Sarah was rummaging through her things, murmuring something about an old dress.

When Marie-Claire was finished, she put on the simple dress Sarah had picked for her.

James and Henri were having a fight with ink balls when they heard footsteps slowly coming down the stairs.

Marie-Claire was coming down the stairs, with Sarah guiding her gently so she wouldn't fall.

"There. You'll find it easier after some time. Henri can go up and down so quickly I'm surprised he hasn't fallen and broken his neck." Sarah said.

"That is because I am nimble!" Henri objected.

"Thank you, Sarah." Marie-Claire said gratefully, smiling at Henri.

Sarah glared at James when she saw the inkblots all over him.

"Have you and Henri been fooling around all morning?" She said, "This ink is expensive, you

know. As though taxes weren't hard enough!"

"It was Henri's fault. He started it." James said a-matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

"WHAT!" Henri shouted.

Sarah shook her head, "You are both so immature."

Henri quickly changed the subject, "Marie, where did you get the dress?"

"Marie's dress was so ragged that I decided to give her my older green dress," Sarah explained when she got to James, "It was too small for me, but it fits her just fine. She is quite smaller than me, actually."

Indeed, it looked like it was made for her. The dress was all the way to the floor. It was a lot like the one Sarah was wearing now, except dark green. Marie-Claire's thick black hair was no longer limp, but shiny and wavy, healthy looking. Her face had been cleaned, showing freckles dancing across her nose. Her eyes, beautiful green, remained shining, and she looked very pretty.

James stared at her, and for a minute it felt like she was reading his thoughts.

"James!" Sarah said shouted, "Did you hear what I said?"

He blinked quickly, as though coming out a trance.

"Yes?" James said.

"I said that we need your article. Don't you still want the front page?" Sarah put her hands on her hips, irritated at having to repeat herself.

"Oh yeah, right," James said hastily, a bit embarrassed, "Umm…I'll go get it."

Just as he went up the stairs, James overheard Marie-Claire say she was hungry.

"How long has it been since you last ate?" Henri asked her as they went to the kitchen.

"I don't know, maybe four or five days." Marie replied.

Henri's eyes grew as wide as saucers, "FOUR OR FIVE DAYS! That is crazy! Follow me; we have some soup left over from last night. Oh, and don't worry, James didn't make it. He makes _tres horrible_ food!"

Sarah and Marie laughed. James decided to go to his room and get the article.

For the next few days, Marie-Claire rested in James' room. When she recovered, she stayed to help them with the printing press. They adapted her as a member of their "family." She moved out of James' room and shared Sarah's.

2 WEEKS LATER…………

"James! Moses! Henri! Marie-Claire!" Sarah was calling, "Come here, look!"

Marie came out of the kitchen, Henri from the street, and James emerged from upstairs. Moses was behind Henri, and they all crowded around Sarah in the middle of the room.

"You have cordially been invited to a ball," Sarah read, "In honor of Lord and Lady McMillan's twentieth anniversary. We request that you please attend."

"A ball?" James frowned, "Does that mean I have to wear that collar?"

"Will there be food?" Henri asked, "Fancy food?"

"How far away is it?" Marie-Claire wondered.

"Who sent this letter?" Moses said above all.

Sarah replied to all of them, "Dr. Franklin sent it, as he is staying there in Lexington with them at the moment. He says in the letter that came with the invitation that he mentioned his "young journalists and printers", and Lord McMillan insisted we come. We must be wearing formal wear, as Lord McMillan is quite wealthy. I expect there is food there, Henri."

"No! Not the collar!" James said dramatically.

"Oh come on," Marie shook her head, "It can't be that bad."

"James whines like a _bebe_," Henri explained, "And Sarah says I'M immature!"

James shot Henri a rather nasty glare.

"Both of you," Moses pulled them apart, "Not right now. You all should go out and buy supplies for the trip. I think we're all out."

"Moses is right," Marie said, "Come on, let's go."

Henri smiled mischievously at James before they went out the door. James tried to ignore him.

Sorry that was short. I guarantee the next one will be MUCH better. There will be parts when there is J/M-Cness, but trust me, I will also focus on the war. Thanks again to P.I.D., and I read your "The Road to Manhood." It was fantastic! You did an excellent job of describing young James. Loverly yours, Autumn


	5. Part 5: The Rivals

Fifth chapter already? I feel like I'm actually going somewhere! This is weird. Well, I hope you enjoy this one, it's pretty funny. I don't own Liberty's Kids. But I do own Danny, Frank and Cassandra.

The four children were soon in town buying supplies. Henri and Marie were (surprise, surprise) buying food, while Sarah and James were getting ink and paper.

"I hope Marie-Claire knows how to act at the grand ball," Sarah said as they left the store, "Do you know if she has ever gone to a ball before?"

"I told you what I know, Sarah," James said irritably, "It's not like she asks me to keep secrets from everyone."

"Well she only talks to you," Sarah sneered, "If you haven't noticed."

James was about to reply when he saw a familiar group of people approach them. He swallowed hard and frowned.

As Henri was deciding over which kind of meat to choose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. A sinking feeling came into his stomach.

"Marie," Henri whispered, tugging on her arm, "I smell trouble."

Marie-Claire paid for the food and glanced outside the store window. She gasped.

"Come on, Henri," She said heatedly, "Let's go."

As Marie-Claire and Henri crossed the street toward James and Sarah, the three people had already gotten to the British girl and American boy. These people where the rival newspaper.

The group consisted of Danny, Frank and Cassandra. Danny, the leader of the pack, had black hair that always stood up, and piercing gray eyes. Frank was rather chubby and freckly. Cassandra's hair was long and in tight, expensive curls. They were American, but most of all, they were mean.

"Good day, James and Sarah," Danny said in a bitter-sweet voice, "Out buying ink or romancing?"

James' face turned red, "We're getting more supplies for our newspaper. I can see that you're not. Is it because you've finally realized how pointless your expensive _Pennsylvania Times_ is?"

Frank clenched his fists, "Nothing is as pointless as yours."

Cassandra stepped forward, "Frank is right. A newspaper is printed to inform the people of the ongoing invents in the world. Our newspaper, unlike yours, is only printed with the best ink and paper that is offered."

By now Marie and Henri had reached them.

"The people don't want a fancy newspaper to read," Marie-Claire said hotly, "They just want to know what is going on."

Cassandra glared at her, "Are you saying that the _Pennsylvania Times_ is too fancy?"

Marie crossed her arms, "I'm just saying that the quality of the articles is what really matters."

Cassandra looked casually at her nails, "Article quality is poor at your little shack, anyway. That Blondie over there is always making spelling mistakes. Besides, he probably makes it all up when he writes."

"You're the ones that make it all up," Marie shot back, "James doesn't make up any of the articles! He writes them as they happen, because instead of getting information from people who were there, he actually witnesses the events as they happen! But most of all, he writes them from the heart. James Hiller has by far some of the most fantastic writing skills I have ever seen, and nothing in your newspaper has any of what he has!"

Danny held Cassandra back, "Well you shouldn't be talking. YOU don't even write the articles. You're probably just still living there because you're a screwing James, you little homeless tramp without a country."

Marie-Claire's eyes flashed extraordinarily with fury. James grabbed her right arm and Sarah grabbed her left, puling her back.

"That was very rude, you _grande conchon_!" Henri shouted.

"Oh, what are you going to do about it, little croissant?" Danny laughed.

Marie broke free from Sarah and James' grip and pushed forward. Henri jumped back just in time as Marie-Claire screamed, "Screw THIS!" and punched Danny right in the face.

"Marie-Claire!" Sarah gasped, restraining her.

Danny had been knocked right down to the ground. He was clutching his bloody nose and wincing.

"Danny, what has that hussy done to you?" Cassandra asked consolingly, "Come on, we'll get you some help."

"She broke my nose!" Danny was shouting as they took him away, "She _broke_ it!"

"We'll get you for this!" Frank called back.

Everyone turned and looked at Marie. James looked shocked, Sarah had a I-hope-we-don't-get-in-trouble look on her face, and Henri was overjoyed.

"Hooray for Marie-Claire!" He said, dancing around waving his arms in the air, "She has prevailed over the enemy!"

"Henri, be quiet," Sarah whispered sharply, "Do you want the entire continent to know?"

"Non!" Henri replied, still excited, "The whole world! _Vive Marie-Claire_!"

Marie was silent. She was quiet the whole way back. James longed to speak to her, but decided not to.

He found an opportunity later that night. Sarah was downstairs talking to Moses about everything they had purchased, so she was in the room alone.

"Um, Marie?" James asked nervously while she brushed her hair. He was leaning against the doorway.

Marie-Claire glanced at him. She gave him a small smile, "Yes?"

"I was just wondering if I could ask you something." James mumbled.

Marie moved over on the bed, and James gratefully sat down beside her.

"Did you really mean everything you said today?" James asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously awaiting her answer.

Marie stared down at her hands, "About you?"

He nodded.

"Then yes," Marie replied, "Every word of it."

James felt himself turning pink, "I…I didn't know you read the _Gazette_."

"I always did whenever you weren't around," Marie said softly, "I glanced at it one time after we had printed them, and then I decided to read it. You really do have a way with words, you know."

James was now turning red. He felt himself becoming more and more flustered.

"I just…James…you were the first person I trusted when I came here. You were really, really nice to me in spite of how rudely I was acting-"

"You weren't acting rude."

"You see? That right there. Your sweetness."

Marie stood up and faced him, "You helped me when I was in terrible times. And didn't even ask for anything in return. That is something that I haven't seen in years."

"What do you mean?" James asked, edging closer to her.

"People treat me differently than others," Marie said quietly, "I really can't tell you why…"

"But I don't understand. Why are you always secretive?" James said.

Before she could reply, Henri appeared in the doorway.

"You had better go to bed," Henri said, "We are leaving tomorrow, _mon ami_!"

Marie and James made a quick longing glance at each other. In her eyes, James saw that she wanted to tell him everything, but for some odd reason, couldn't.

Romancing going on? Or just close friends? I'm sorry if all the events aren't; historically accurate, but they fit the story perfectly. Thanks again to all who loyally review! 

Loverly yours,

Autumn


	6. Part 6: Nightmare

This chapter is short. It is basically about Marie-Claire having a weird dream. Sorry once again for the historical inaccuracy. (e.g. dynamite)

"_Come along, Mr. Foster," A tall man with piercing eyes said, "Let me show you my plan."_

_Lord Sampson was a very frightening man indeed. He used to be interested in the fight for freedom, but now he was loyal to Britain after witnessing The Boston Massacre. His loyalty to Britain was a secret to the Americans. He had turned into a very evil man after meeting a certain person who had ruined his plans for an attack._

_Mark Foster followed Lord Sampson as they went into his cabin on their ship. He too, was a British man, and was curious about what was going on._

"_We've been invited to a ball," Lord Sampson explained, unfolding the invitation he had received earlier that day, "For Lady Cheval, wife of Lord Wilfred Cheval. I used to be good friends with the man when I was on the rebel's side." _

_Mr. Foster shook his head, "This is a very fancy party, by the sounds of it. What exactly are you plotting to do? Steal something of theirs and hold it for ransom?"_

_Lord Sampson shook his head, "Even better." He stepped over to one of the windows, gazing out at the ocean, "You and I will go to the party and play the part. Meet new people; make small talk, you know. Then, when it is nighttime, the entire Navy will be waiting for us outside, all of them carrying sticks of dynamite and gunpowder. Both of us will leave our rooms and meet them there. From then on we will ride to the American camp."_

_Mark nodded, "I understand what you are saying, sir, but what is the dynamite and gunpowder for?"_

_Lord Sampson looked back at him, "Oh, I believe I left out the single most important detail…"_

_Mr. Foster stepped back, a bit frightened of the man himself._

_Lord Sampson gave an evil laugh, "When we have reached American camp, and they are all unaware…we will set the entire American camp on fire and…blow those so-called "Patriots" to the heavens.."_

Marie-Claire sat up in bed, screaming loudly. She was breathing heavily and covered in a cold, terrified sweat. Sarah turned over in her sleep uneasily, muttering about speaking too loud or something. She apparently could sleep through anything.

James appeared in the doorway not a minute later with a candle in his hand.

"Marie, are you alright?' James asked her urgently, "I heard screaming. Are you in pain?"

Marie-Claire was somewhat happy to see James there. She thought it rather sweet of him to come running to her rescue. Then she snapped out of it.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," She assured him, "I'm not hurt. I just, had a bad dream, that's all."

James gave her a shy little smile as he scratched the back of his head uneasily, "Oh, ok. Sorry. Good-night."

Marie-Claire stayed awake for a moment, hearing his footsteps as he went back to his room. It felt good to her that someone actually cared about her, and didn't see her as just an object of benefit for the war.

She rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but a million thoughts were running through her head. Why was Lord Sampson in her dream? Was he going to come back to get her? How come she was dreaming about this when she wasn't on any particular side? Unless…

Marie-Claire opened her eyes. She rummaged around in the beside table for the letter Sarah had read earlier that day. Turning on the oil lamp, Marie read it over again.

Marie gasped. What she had feared was true. Lord Sampson was going to the exact ball that she and the others were going to. Now this meant not only danger for the Americans, but for Marie-Claire, too.

As she turned over in her bed for a very troubled sleep, Marie-Claire wondered what she should do. If Lord Sampson learned where she was staying, then he would do anything-even get rid of Sarah, Henri, Moses and James-just to get to her. This was so frustrating. Marie wished she'd never had that vision. And what's more, that she had drowned in the sea.


	7. Part 7: The Ball and Marie's Fright

Part 6 is finally here! Yes, this is a very long one, so without further ado I will do the usual memo.

I have skipped the whole way up, because it was too boring. The kids are staying at an inn that happens to be just across the street from the rich guy's house. The house has a grand ballroom, by the way.

Also, the character of John Alexander McGibbon belongs to me (a homage to the great John A. Macdonald…don't laugh, I'm CANADIAN!), as does Sylvia (just a little thing I did for Henri). I don't own Liberty's Kids. If I did this fic would have been a movie. Now, on with the show!

Sarah tried to fasten her locket around her neck. After about four tries, she was unsuccessful. It might have been the frills on her sleeves that prevented her from doing so.

"Marie, can you please put my locket on for me?" Sarah asked politely.

Marie-Claire literally hopped on one foot over to Sarah, who was standing by the mirror. She had only one shoe on, for they were difficult to place on her feet.

"Yes, of course, but only if you tie the back of my dress. I can't reach it, the darned thing."

Sarah sighed, "Marie, you've only got one shoe on."

"Well I can't help it, they don't like me. And they hurt to wear." Marie replied, fastening the locket around Sarah's neck.

Sarah carefully tied the ribbon at the back of Marie's dress, "This is a grand ball. We should look and act our best. And please, no punching people."

Marie smiled mischievously at the memory, "That guy deserved it."

Henri opened the door, "Come on, are you girls ready YET?"

Sarah put her hands on her hips, "Ladies take longer to get ready, since we actually care about our appearances."

Marie-Claire leaned down to whisper in Henri's ear, "If you were wearing a 500-pound outfit and a pair of feet crushers, you'd take awhile to get dressed too."

Henri had a confused look on his face, but he stepped aside and let Marie and Sarah go through the doorway.

"Oh, les filles, les filles," Henri muttered, "I will never understand them."

The three made their way to the hallway inside the inn. James was waiting there.

He got his first look at the two young women in formal wear. Sarah's dress was a pale blue, with lace around the sleeves, neck and bottom of the dress. She had a ribbon pulling back her long red hair, and her mother's locket was around her neck. Little dark blue bows were here and there. Marie-Claire's was yellow. He dark black hair was left down, and her dress also had lace around it. There was a corset-type front, and there were orange ribbons placed in random places on the dress itself. Instead of wearing a bow, Marie had stuck a yellow flower in her hair.

"Wow," He thought, "Sarah and Marie look really pretty."

Of course, he didn't say that out loud.

Sarah smiled, "Well, for once you look quite reformed, James Hiller."

James rolled his eyes, "Please, Sarah. I can't wait until this is over and I can breathe again."

Marie-Claire walked up to him and whispered, "Same here."

James frowned in confusion. He thought all girls loved wearing beautiful dresses. Marie apparently did not. She was so strange.

"I cannot wait to see the food!" Henri exclaimed as they went to walk across the street, "I can just imagine it…succulent deserts, pies, cakes, everything! And appetizers! Sarah, whoever invented THOSE should be interviewed for the _Gazette_!"

"Oh Henri, you're so silly." Sarah replied to her friend.

They were at the tall doors of the mansion before long. The four children looked around in awe as they entered the ballroom of the house. High ceilings with extravagant designs. Tapestries and chandeliers. Elegant music and people in fine clothing. A long banquet table.

"Food!" Henri cried when he saw the table. James held him back.

"Not so fast," James told him, "We're here to see Dr. Franklin, remember? He invited us."

Henri groaned, "Oh, all right. The food will have to wait."

Marie smiled, "Oh, James, just let him go. You know Henri."

"He'll pester you until he does." Sarah agreed.

Just then, Ben Franklin approached them.

"Hello, Sarah, James and Henri. I'm glad you could make it."

"So are we, Dr. Franklin," James replied, "But what is Sir Cheval? Is he a British sympathizer or is he American?"

"James!" Sarah scolded.

"He is an American man," Dr. Franklin answered, "A very supportive one at that. He is thinking of joining our cause."

"This is great," James said, "Please excuse me, sir, I need to write this down."

Sarah scoffed. James could be such an annoyance sometimes. She tried not to show she was a little jealous that he got to the story first.

"You must be Marie-Claire," Dr, Franklin said suddenly, "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," Marie replied, "I can't thank you enough for allowing me to stay at your print shop. It is truly amazing that someone of your high stature would allow a weak girl like me into your home."

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," Ben Franklin said, "It was nice meeting you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak with the other men who are here. Some of them have opinions they would like to share with me about Congress."

"Dr. Franklin is such a nice man," Marie said to Sarah, "You don't see that very often where I come from."

"I thought you said you came from England." Sarah said, a puzzled look spreading across her face.

"I did," Marie said, "But I have seen other places. I left England when I was very young, Sarah. The people I met…well…they weren't the nicest folks you'd ever meet. Noblemen are mostly concerned for themselves these days."

"That is what the Marquis de Lafayette said," Sarah told her, "Henri told us. You see, he was a French nobleman who came to join our-"

"Yes, I have heard of him," Marie nodded, "But Sarah, please don't tell anyone what I have just told you. I must sit down. These shoes are killing me."

Marie left a bewildered Sarah by herself. Henri was already attacking the banquet table, and one young girl seemed rather amused. Gazing around the room, Marie found a pair of chairs against a wall in front of a painting of a garden. James was seated in one of them, writing furiously on a piece of paper.

Marie-Claire sat down in the chair beside James, sighing.

"Thank heavens they have chairs in here," Marie whispered, curling a hair behind her ear, "My shoes are murder to walk in. How about you? Choking to death yet?"

James smiled, "Sarah showed me how to loosen it."

Marie smiled back, "Lucky you."

Henri came walking over to them, carrying a small plate of food.

"Aren't you two going to dance?" Henri asked them merrily.

James and Marie-Claire looked at each other.

"Uh…Marie's shoes are bothering her," James said, trying to avoid eye-contact with the French boy, "And I can't dance."

Marie nodded quickly.

Henri rolled his eyes, "Well then, you are going to be the only ones not dancing. I have found a girl to dance with, in fact! Her name is Sylvia…"

A little girl, just under Henri's height, waved at him. She was wearing a pink dress and had various bows in her blonde hair. Henri blushed and waved back at her. James tried not to laugh and Marie smiled, recognizing the girl from the banquet table.

"Go on, dance with her." She urged him.

Henri shook his head, "Non. Only if you dance with James."

Marie's eyes grew wide and she cast James a glance. James shot Henri a glare and stood up.

Marie-Claire took his hand as he led her to the ballroom floor. It was awkward, and she could feel herself sweating nervously. He took her hand and put the other on his waist. Marie put her right arm around his neck, and the dance began.

"I'm going to kill Henri for this." James muttered, but loud enough so Marie could here.

"You two just don't know when to quit, do you?" Marie said, laughing.

James smiled and nodded, "There's a point where I draw the line."

Marie looked James in the eye. He felt a strange sensation run through him.

"You don't fight when Dr. Franklin is around; you'd get in trouble." Marie answered.

James frowned, "Yeah…how did you know that?"

Marie shrugged, "I know things."

Silence. The dance continued on. Marie and James found themselves enjoying it, though neither would admit it out loud.

"You aren't a bad dancer." Marie blurted out.

"Uh, thanks." James replied, not knowing what to say. He was surprised he wasn't stepping all over her feet yet. He found himself sweating nervously.

Marie smiled and looked down at the floor. Never had she found dancing so difficult. It felt like her feet were stuck to the floor and she had to drag them up in order to move.

As they turned, Marie casually glanced over James' shoulder.

"Oh my goodness, look over by the banquet table." She urged him.

James nonchalantly looked by the table. Sarah was speaking with a boy about 3 years older than her. They appeared to be enjoying their conversation.

"That's John Alexander McGibbon," James whispered, "She's sweet on him."

"Ah, really?" Marie smiled, "Thank you for the dance, Mr. Hiller, but excuse me for a moment."

James looked confused as she left him to go to the banquet table.

"…and I must say that there is such an amazing group that lead the battle," Mr. McGibbon was saying as Marie pretended to grab a glass of wine, "Not a single soul out there retreated."

"It must have been difficult." Sarah said, immersed in conversation to even notice Marie was watching them.

"Not as difficult as a fine writer like yourself having to write about it." Mr. McGibbon smiled.

Marie stifled a laugh. They had to be flirting. She went to take a drink of wine.

"It is good for the people to know what is going on," Sarah explained, "But I must admit it is difficult to see all the suffering of the soldiers at times."

"It is," Mr. McGibbon said, "Sometimes some of them are my friends. But it is a good thing that we have our good General."

"General?" Sarah asked him, "What is his name?"

Marie was smiling by now. Sarah was looking at him the way she might look at someone if she were sleepy. This was funny. She happily went to take a drink of wine.

Mr. McGibbon replied to Sarah's questions, "Lord Sampson."

Marie-Claire almost choked.

"Interesting." Sarah said.

Breathe, just breathe, Marie told herself. At least he wasn't anywhere near her. Everything was going to be all right. The young girl went to take another sip.

"You could ask him a few questions if you would like to," Mr. McGibbon continued, "He's arriving here tonight. He should be here any moment."

She dropped her glass and spat out her wine. The few people that were around her looked at her like she was a wild animal. Marie gave them a weak smile and began to walk away quite quickly, feeling her stomach flipping around inside her.

"Marie, what is the matter? Are you sick?" Henri ran after his friend as she led herself to the next room. It was just an empty dining room area.

"I think I'm going to be," Marie-Claire replied to him, "Please, Henri, I really think I should go back to the inn."

"Non! You cannot. I have to tell James and Sarah first!" Henri said.

"Ok, ok, you do that," Marie said, fanning herself, "Is it me or is it warm in here?"

The young girl paced back and forth, and then finally returned the ballroom. Feeling very nervous, she stared down at the floor. The floor was very shiny, even shinier than the gold buttons on this rich guy's shirt she had seen when she was 7. Ok, no more looking at the floor. Marie lifted her head up slowly and began to walk towards the door, so lost into her own thoughts she bumped right into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't- AAGH!"

Marie-Claire covered her mouth after she let out a small yelp. What she had feared the most had now come true. How could she escape that face? Those evil eyes? That glare? All of it had haunted her since she escaped. Now he stood before her.

"Marie, this is Lord Sampson," Sarah explained, who had apparently just met him, "He is an American General."

Lord Sampson was a tall and strong-built man. His dark black hair was hidden beneath a wig. But those eyes…they were cold, dark gray. Marie already knew this man.

Sarah frowned, "Marie-Claire, introduce yourself. Don't be rude, now."

Marie felt her heart beating faster and faster. Her face turned completely white. Her skin was light to begin with, but now she looked almost dead.

Lord Sampson looked down at her and bellowed, "Good evening."

James and Henri were soon beside Sarah.

"What's wrong?" Henri asked her.

Marie couldn't speak. She felt like she was frozen. A small, evil smile spread across Lord Sampson's face. This made it worse.

"I…I have to go." Marie said, backing away from them.

"Go? Why?" James asked. By now everyone except Lord Sampson were looking at her like she had completely lost her mind.

Marie took a deep breath, and without thinking, shouted, "BECAUSE LORD SAMPSON'S GOING TO ATTACK THE AMERICANS TOMORROW MORNING!"

The entire room went quiet. Marie-Claire covered her mouth and ran.

Quite suspenseful, hmm? Well, it was enjoyable to write it. Poor Marie-Claire. And where is she running? Why is she so freaked out? Quite a bit, and her dark secret, shall be revealed in the next chapter. SERIOUSLY! Loverly yours, Autumn


	8. Part 8: A Unique Gift

I know I made a mistake about the name of the rich guy's house. Please ignore it. He won't be mentioned anymore in this story. I know about editing and stuff, but I have to alternate between two computers, so it is much easier this way. Thank you. As promised, the mysterious secret Marie-Claire has been hiding is finally told! Read on!

Marie-Claire ran across the street, James high-tailing after her like a fox. She was aware he was behind her. But Marie really didn't care about that. All she wanted was to go to the inn and hide.

James followed her all the way up the stairs to the room they were all staying in. he was trying to get her to speak to him, but she was simply refusing to turn back and talk to him. Finally, they reached the room.

"What was THAT!" James exploded. He shut the door behind him for privacy and looked back at her.

"I…I just had a dream last night, that's all." Marie-Claire said nervously.

"Had a dream last night?" James was growing angrier and angrier, "What does that have to do with anything? You just said right in front of everyone that Lord Sampson was planning to attack tomorrow morning. How could you possibly have known that? How do you know these things!"

Marie-Claire had turned her back to him by now.

"Marie! Look at me!" James shouted, "How did you know that!"

She crossed her arms and turned around, dropping them at her sides.

"You want to know how?" She said, her voice shaky, "I'm psychic, that's how!"

James rolled his eyes, "Oh, right. And I can fly."

"I'm serious!" Marie exclaimed, "After I turned 4, I started having dreams. Strange dreams, about people I knew, and people I didn't know. I finally realized what had happened when I had a dream that my neighbor would die after getting run over by a coach. Then, the next day, I went outside and saw it happen! What else could it be?"

James had stood there the whole time, eyes wide open, and hardly able to process any of the information he was hearing.

"Marie, are you sure?" James asked, sounding serious, "That is the reason?"

Marie-Claire nodded her head quickly, "Yes."

James had found this all hard to believe, but now it started to make sense. The waking up in the middle of the night, her knowing things know one had ever told her, everything. It had to be true.

"This is amazing," James said, star-struck, "Marie-Claire, do you realize what you could do with this? You could help the Americans win the war! Why, all we'd have to do is bring you along, you'd have a dream and find out where the British are going to attack and-"

"NO!" Marie-Claire covered her ears and screamed.

James stepped back, feeling he might have offended her. Then again, she was always acting strange like this.

Marie, breathing heavily, looked back up at James, and slowly stood up.

"I can't do that, James," Marie said, eyes filling with tears, "Don't you see? They'll-"

"They? Who's they?" James interrupted.

"The ones who want to kill me." Marie whispered.

James' face suddenly showed an expression of fear, "Who wants to kill you?"

Marie threw her arms in the air, tears streaming down her flustered cheeks, "The British! The Americans! The Hessians! EVERYONE! They all want to kill me! That's why I'm always on the run. That's why I was floating on that barrel. And that is why I'm here this very second, and not back home having a normal life!"

James was shocked, "You mean…you've helped them before? All of them?"

Marie-Claire nodded, wiping away her tears, "I was with my father, who was in the American fleet. I was helping them pinpoint where the British were. Then, when the British captured me, they realized that I was, shall I say, "gifted." They used me to help them. During a battle, I escaped. And as if that wasn't it, the Hessians, who had also heard about me, captured me. They kept me in a stinking old tent, and tortured me on occasion when I refused to help them. After that, they threw me into the ocean so I would drown, but I found an old barrel and clung to it, eventually passing out. Then your boat came and brought me aboard."

James was speechless. Had this really happened to her?

"There you have it, Mr. Hiller. My life story." Marie-Claire said simply, sinking to the floor.

He stood there, watching her cry. James didn't know exactly what to do or say, so he helped Marie-Claire to her feet.

"Listen, I'm really sorry," James whispered, "I've been an idiot. I should have believed you the first time you said it. You didn't have to tell me everything against your will."

Marie's glassy eyes surveyed his serious face.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" She whispered back.

James shook his head, "No, I won't."

Marie-Claire made a little smile, "Thank you, James."

James smiled back at her. By now she was so close, it was incredible. Her astonishing eyes were staring right into his, and her lips so close he was about to…

"James! Marie-Claire, I-"

The two of them turned around to see Henri standing in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth dropped open in surprise.

"James, were you going to kiss her?" Henri said, astonished.

Marie stepped back right away.

"No, of course not," James snapped, "Why on earth would I do that?"

Henri frowned, "Right. Forget that. Sarah says we must go to sleep now."

Marie-Claire looked at James longingly.

"Oh, my dear friend," She thought desperately, "There is so much I wish to tell you…but I can't. Not just yet."

A phychic girl in the American Revolution? Hmm... Give me your thoughts on this. Say whatever you like. Just don't be too harsh if you find the idea completely ridiculous. Loverly yours, Autumn


	9. Part 9: Change of Plans

Poor Marie-Claire! Well at least you finally know what her 'dark secret' is. Let's hope James is the only one she'll have to tell.

Lord Sampson was still at the ball just seconds after Marie-Claire had burst out and ran away. He didn't seem too alarmed or embarrassed; but played it cool instead. For the people around him who had begun to stare, he simply said, "You must forgive her. She is not feeling well."

They soon lost interest and started doing more small talk amongst themselves.

"Ah, Dr. Franklin. It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard that you run a rather successful newspaper." Lord Sampson said kindly when he met the man.

"Good evening, Lord Sampson," Dr. Franklin replied, shaking his hand, "Yes. It is called the _Pennsylvania Gazette_. It is printed in Philadelphia."

"Do you have slaves who print it for you?" Lord Sampson asked casually. Sarah, who was nearby, seemed shocked at his remark. Slavery was a horrible thing.

Dr. Franklin shook his head, "No. I have two young apprentices, Sarah and James, who are also quite the accomplished writers, my good friend Moses, and a boy we, shall I say, semi-adopted, by the name of Henri. At the moment we have also accepted a new girl by the name of Marie-Claire."

Lord Sampson curled his mustache in interest, "I see. So do these people all live in the print shop back in Philadelphia?"

Dr. Franklin frowned, "Why are you suddenly so interested, my good man?"

"I'm not, really," Lord Sampson replied, feeling uncomfortable, "Just making small talk. Pleasure to meet you, sir. I must be off now."

Lord Sampson met another man in the corner of the room, who was mostly being silent and trying to be inconspicuous.

"Change of plans," He said to his comrade, "The target is no longer hidden. We're leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow."

Benjamin Franklin watched this man out of the corner of his eye. He just seemed so suspicious, maybe even unsafe. Something wasn't right.

Dang, Lord Sampson's a totally freaky dude with one deranged mind! Review? PLEASE? Loverly yours, Autumn


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